Waking Khaos
by Zeta's-Slumber
Summary: Gaea's realm is in ruins. Prometheus' greatest creations are running amok. And now, Chaos is waking. The last of his forerunners is finally free, signalling the world's end. Ideals and beliefs shall clash. Can the son of Poseidon oppose destiny? It's a race against time. Percy VS Zeta the son of Moros, god of doom.


_A year before the events of the Lightning Thief_

_"I never wanted to exist. But it's not like I want to die now."_

_-**Zeta Six**_

* * *

It was a stormy afternoon that day. The sky showed no light, only a dark ominous feel filled the heavens. The waves roared by the rocky shore. Flashes of lightning sparked the sky from time to time. And a strong gust of wind enveloped the waters of the Earth.

With all these dangerous signs of nature, it was evident that a terrible storm was upon humanity. Yet that did not stop a certain boy of the age of ten from glaring angrily at the stormy clouds. The little boy bore messy dark obsidian black hair and bright algae green eyes, a very odd eye color.

The boy stood at the edge of a rocky cliff with the ocean waves beneath it. The constant moans of the sea did not seem to bother him one bit. Still his posture was fixed and he didn't move one bit.

Motionlessly he spoke. "I know you're there." Out of the shadows of huge boulders behind the boy, came out a young man that appeared to be twenty-one years old. He was dressed in a simple elegant ink black suit with a tie that matched both the boy's eyes and his own. And much like the child's look, his skin was terribly pale, hair was in the color of obsidian and was indeed very messy and he wore a look that screamed hatred for the world on his face, except the man's had more of an all-knowing face blended into his facial features as well.

"Dad." The boy finished, still not budging from his spot.

"Hmph." The man smirked. "As expected, you're perception's already keen enough to detect a god's presence."

Slowly he approached the boy, though very warily, as if he would suddenly burst out and attack him. Children of the doom god have always been quite unpredictable and for eons only their father has been able to tame their volatile tempers.

Yes. That's right, the little innocent-looking boy that appeared incapable of even hurting a mere fly was a son of Moros, a demigod no less. And the older man was the god of doom himself.

_FWOOSH!_

The winds were getting stronger and even more violent. Harshly they blew the boy's hair backwards, the child had the audacity to go against the winds and face its source. But despite the already forming storm, the duo of father and son did not move an inch nor did they have any traces of worry in their faces.

"Hey, dad. Why is the world so cruel?" The boy asked his father sincerely.

"That is merely how the world's nature is, son." The man said. He stood a good few feet away from his offspring.

The boy did not seem pleased with such an ambiguous answer. "Then why? Why is the world so unfair?"

This time, the boy's question was left unanswered. "Why am I forced to bear this curse?" Again he questioned. "No other demigod has to deal with the worries I do."

"That is nothing but another reference of how unfair life is." Moros, the man, answered.

"Tch." The son of doom clicked his tongue. "Well I hate it. The world, I mean." The boy sounded genuinely ticked at reality.

"No no, what you are feeling right now is simply displeasure." The doom god chided. "You have not yet begun to realize what true hatred is."

"But give it time." Moros continued. "As soon as you go through the sealing, you'll have the experiences of all my past children. But of course, nothing beats actually feeling the emotion, hatred, yourself." He shrugged.

The boy's body went rigid. "I never agreed to go along with that despicable system of yours."

"Not yet." Moros corrected. "The flaw of all my children is parental obedience, as I am sure you are aware of. If I would ask you to steal Zeus' masterbolt, you would continuously try do so, until you'd either succeed or die trying." Again the god just shrugged, as if his son's death were no big deal.

"Don't even joke about such commands!" The boy didn't like to be reminded that he was nothing but a living puppet born to serve a master. Although the child could sense some genuine parental love emanating from his father, it was very faint. And besides the god of doom was not his real master, the true boss was a even more fearsome. His name couldn't even be said without causing a jar or two to break.

A long period of silence followed. To the common on-looker it would seem clear that the child would never consent to his father's proposal but in life, things never go as expected at most times.

"I'm endangering her, aren't I? Soon my bare presence will be enough to kill her, won't it?" The boy asked Moros, knowing very well the answer to his own question.

"I'm afraid so." The reply came.

For a change, the boy looked down. "Zeta, th-" The god's words were cut off by the words of the young boy. The boy was named Zeta.

"I know." Zeta said. "The only way to keep her away from harm and to keep the world alive for a little longer is the _process_."

"Actually," Moros interjected. "word on Olympus is that the great prophecies are finally being realized. First the Titans and then, the giants and Gaea shall wake."

Zeta nodded understanding the scenarios of the future. "And of course, after the next two wars have passed, a conflict shall rise. One that will be two short to be called a war perhaps I should call it a struggle? Anyway, the bright side is that if humanity will not be able to take on the Titans and Giants, they won't have to deal with you and Khaos."

The boy looked hopeful, all of a sudden. "But we can't be so optimistic as to wish for the downfall of Olympus." Moros reasoned.

Through all that, Zeta still stood on the edge of the cliff not moving. The god needed to get his attention.

"You know, I myself am a god." Moros said. "The god of doom. Catchy, isn't it? I thought so too. But even though I am called a god. I am for the most part a primeval spirit born to Erebos and Nyx. And therefore my title can shift unlike most others. During the golden age, I was called the Titan of Doom, also very catchy, don't you think?"

"Is this your form of small talk?" Zeta rudely replied. "Cus' you're not very amusing. And besides you're telling me information I'm already aware of."

"But isn't that what mortals do nowadays?" Moros asked. "Talk about themselves like they are the center of the universe for conversations."

The god was not answered. The look on the deity's face showed obvious disappointment at his son's lack of social skills.

"I'll take that as a yes. If you really rather not talk about me, how about your mother then?" Moros wryly smiled.

If it was even possible, the boy's eyes darkened even more. "You know I don't like to talk about her, _Dad_." Zeta said, emphasizing the last word. He'd hope that his father would have enough respect for his child as to avoid the topic of his mother, but sadly it seemed that the god had once again decided to completely neglect his son's feelings and go on anyway.

"You know the story, her name was Marie Kerr, beautiful silky black hair and enchanting olive green eyes, we met at New York City right after I had a chat with some of my brethren on Olympus and we instantly hit it off." He began.

"Yeah, yeah. And then you two went off to look for a bed to have some fun." Zeta teased.

"Nah... She wasn't the type to get knocked up on the first meeting." He paused for a bit, probably thinking of his late lover. "Anyway after our first encounter, she was able to pique my interest and I started seeing her, the dating kind, mind you. And after several dates and nights of romancing, you came to be." The doom god clapped his hands, feigning celebration. But Zeta was not amused

"I'll never forget the day you came to our lives." He reminisced, as if it seemed like it just happened the day before.

"I bet you wouldn't." Zeta chuckled. "I wouldn't either if one of my kids died that day." The boy flashed a smile, a very twisted one.

Moros only nodded happily. "Ah yes, I'll never forget Epsilon." He paused again, respect for the dead most likely. "But we're talking about your mother not your brother. Just like most mothers, Mary enjoyed raising you as an infant and cherished every moment she spent with you."

"And after seven long years of motherhood, on your seventh birthday, the acc-" The god's words were abruptly interrupted.

"Don't even go there!" Zeta halted his father from going any further. The man only smirked, much to the annoyance of his son, who could literally sense him doing so.

"Alright already, I'll go with you!" Irritated, Zeta decided. It didn't matter either way, what his answer would be. But he couldn't survive another moment on memory lane.

"But you'll have to promise me one thing." Moros arched a brow. "That you will use all of your power to make sure she stays safe, got it?"

The god only smiled, and walked towards his demigod son. With his cold hands he grasped the collar of Zeta's black shirt and transported the two of them off the private island and into the sealing chamber.

But not before he was able to agree to the boy's conditions.

"I swear on the Styx."

And in a flash of green light they were gone.

In a matter of seven years, Zeta's sealing shall be completed and the cycle shall finally begin its end. And so shall the world begin its end as well, Earth shall face Khaos.

Can the last forerunner be stopped?


End file.
